


Missing Persons

by provencepuss



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:18:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/provencepuss/pseuds/provencepuss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hutch stars in "desperately seeking Starsky".....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Persons

MISSING PERSONS

 

  
It was one of those smog-laden days when the California sunshine was nowhere to be seen. Hutch had started out to jog, but the heaviness of the air made him turn home again. He let himself into his house by the canal and headed for the shower.  
Fifteen minutes later he was dressed and heaping the ingredients of his breakfast into the blender; protein powder and skimmed milk, powdered lecithin, wheat-germ, honey and a banana. Starsky called it “glop” and refused to have anything to do with it. Hutch never really inquired what Starsky had for breakfast at home; all too often his partner seemed to start the day with a slice of left-over pizza and a coke; on a good day, at least his partner ate a bagel or a donut and drank coffee.  
Hutch drained his glass and put it and the blender goblet in the sink along with last night’s dishes. Abby had been round and they had eaten a big salad with a mixture of fermented goat cheese and dried bananas. Abby’s theory was that eating the way they did enhanced their sexual powers; Hutch had no complaints. Abby finally went home at one-thirty!

Hutch looked at his watch and saw that he was late. He ran out of the house and got into his car, which started first time! Twenty minutes later he was parking along the street from the precinct. Starsky’s car was not in front of the building – despite his lucky knack of arriving just as a black and white pulled away, leaving a space right in front of the entrance. Of course Starsky would never tell Hutch that it was not a question of luck, but good timing; he arrived just as the uniform guys went out on the beat. That the Torino was not to be seen surprised Hutch, it was normal for him to be late, but Starsky was almost infuriatingly punctual.

Hutch went on up to the squad room. No Starsky. He served himself a coffee and sat at his desk; he took a sip out of the mug and put it down in disgust. “This stuff is undrinkable” he said to no-one in particular; the other cops in the room just got on with whatever they were doing. The only time either Starsky or Hutch didn’t complain about the coffee was the rare occasion when one of them made it!  
Hutch started to re-arrange everything on his desk. He picked up the Piggy Bank that sat between the two typewriters back to back from one another, one for Starsky and one for Hutch; the thing was empty. A while back the partners had decided to put a quarter in the Pig every time they solved a case. A week ago, Starsky had rattled it and taken out the contents; after counting it with mock solemnity he announced that they had enough to go and celebrate and it was his surprise where they went. They’d ended up in a Chinese restaurant that to Hutch’s amazement was very good; when he mentioned this Starsky had looked at him with mock pity: “Bet you thought I was gonna take you to a greasy diner?”

Ten o’clock came and went and still no sign of Starsky. Hutch reached for the ‘phone and then had a better idea. He left the squad room; as he passed Steve Hill he said “If the Captain wants me I’m out looking for someone, Ok?” “Sure Hutch, will you meet Starsky there?” “Yea he’s been hunting too.”

Hutch pulled up in front of the garage apartment that Starsky rented. Despite his friend’s mockery of the canal front address, the truth was that Starsky lived in a much more middle class street than Hutch did. Hutch never made the obvious comment when Starsky started his “you’re middle class, I’m from the streets” routine. The apartment was built above a double garage and as far as Hutch knew they both belonged to the house next door. Starsky always parked out on the street.   
The Torino was not in its usual place out front, but that meant nothing; sometimes Starsky left his car round behind the building. Hutch killed the engine and checked that there were not too many neighbors at home; then he switched on the siren. After about thirty seconds of whooping and wailing the only reaction came from a house across the street; a woman opened a window to see what was going on; and closed it again.  
Hutch killed the siren and reached into his jacket; pulling his Magnum out of the holster he checked it, and slipped it into the back of his belt as he got out of the car. He went up the steps to Starsky’s front door as quietly as possible and tapped on the door with the butt of the gun.  
Nothing.  
He felt along the lintel above the door and found the key. Carefully he turned the lock and opened the door enough to see inside. He decided that the coast was clear and went in.   
The room was neat with no sign of any struggle. On the kitchen counter the coffee pot was still warm, but empty; a mug a plate and a knife were draining beside the sink. Hutch went on through the lobby where Starsky liked to sit and read in his wicker peacock chair and into the bedroom. The bed had been made and Hutch could see that the bathroom was still a little steamy from one of Starsky’s long lingering hot showers. It didn’t need much of Hutch’s detective skills to see that Starsky had left the apartment willingly and calmly. “Welcome to the Marie Celeste” his partner said out loud.

****************************************************************

Huggy was playing pinball and by the faces he was making it was clear that the machine was winning. Huggy’s face had a rubbery ability to twist and turn from scowl to grimace to big grin in a matter of seconds. He looked up as Hutch settled next to the machine.  
“You alone?”  
“Yea, you haven’t heard from Starsky today have you?” Hutch hoped that he could keep the concern out of his voice.  
“No I haven’t. The way you ask I get the impression that there’s something wrong; you guys haven’t had a fight have you?”  
“Hey come on Hug we don’t fight…  
“No I guess not; well only occasionally anyhow. So what’s the problem?”  
“You know Starsk, he’s never late. Today he just hasn’t turned up for work and that is really not like him.”  
“You go over to his place and see if he isn’t sick or ‘occ-u-pied’?” Huggy said the last word with all the innuendo he could muster.  
“He’s not there. No sign of any trouble; it looks like he set out for work just like normal. But he didn’t arrive.”

Huggy went behind the bar and poured two beers; setting one of the glasses down in front of Hutch he said “Did you check that he didn’t have an accident on the way?”  
Hutch looked at him. “Give me the ‘phone.”  
He dialed a number and waited a couple of seconds. “Emergency dispatch? This is Detective Hutchinson of….oh Hi Jerry, how’re you doing?...I’m fine….well that’s kind of why I’m calling, you haven’t had any RTAs between West Hollywood and the precinct have you?...yea well I just thought I’d ask…yea, you couldn’t miss it could you, I mean anyone would remark on a car like that….yea thanks. See you some time. Bye.”

He put the ‘phone down and handed it to Huggy who placed it back next to the till.

“It’s like he’s just disappeared, Huggy.”  
“In that car of his? Come on Hutch he’s probably out tom-catting someplace and forgotten about his job.”  
Both of them knew that this was not Starsky’s style. He was not one to let his sex-life make him forget to go to work.

“I’ll start calling around Hutch; and you hit the streets; someone will have seen him.”  
Huggy tried to sound convinced, but somehow it didn’t come across. He watched Hutch go up the steps to the sidewalk and then turned back cleaning glasses.

Back in his car Hutch sat and thought where he should start. He was still figuring it out when the radio started squawking.  
“Zebra Three, come in please.”  
“Hi Mildred.”  
“Hi Hutch, I have a message for you…” _Please God let it be from Starsk_ “…Captain Dobey wants to see you in his office immediately.”  
“This is Zebra Three, I’m having a problem and did not hear clearly…”  
Dobey’s voice cut in “Hutchinson don’t run that crap on me, get your ass in here and get it in here now!”  
“Yes Captain.” Hutch had already started the car and pulled away from the curb into the traffic.  
As he drove along he tried to convince himself that Starsky would already be sitting in Dobey’s office and that he’d uncovered something that needed their attention.

Hutch parked in the garage in front of the sign proclaiming that this was a drop down only space reserved for cars bringing in an arrestee. He ran into the building and up the stairs to Dobey’s office.  
Starsky was not there. The Captain was behind his desk and he did not look happy.  
“How long did you think you could keep me out of this?”  
Hutch looked at the Captain, eyes wide in what he hoped was a look of innocence. “Keep you out of what?”  
“You have a partner. Where is he? Or don’t you know?”  
Hutch sat back in the chair and paused before answering.  
“I don’t know where he is. I’ve been over to his place, he wasn’t in and there is no sign of him leaving any other way than normally. He’d made his bed, washed his dishes and all before going out.”  
“Hmm”  
“I’ve been over to Huggy’s, he hasn’t seen Starsky either. Captain I even checked with emergency that he hadn’t been in an accident.”

“Well he can’t have just vanished into thin air – not in that car of his!”  
“That’s what Huggy said, Captain.”  
“What do you want to do?”  
Hutch thought for a minute. “Let me see if any of our snitches know anything. If I haven’t come up with a lead in 24 hours we’ll put out an APB.”  
“We’ll see about that when the time comes”   
“If he’s in trouble I’ll hear something before the end of twelve hours, twenty four is plenty.”

Dobey let it go. This wasn’t the first time one of these two had disappeared; the last time it had been Hutch; and Starsky had spent two days nursing him through Cold Turkey. He knew that Hutch must be thinking the same thing.  
“OK. Keep me posted every two hours is that clear?”  
“And you let me know if anyone hears or sees anything.”  
Hutch went out of the office and back down to his car. On the way he stopped at the dispatch desk. “Mildred?”   
“Yes Hutch?”  
“If anyone sees or hears anything I want to know about it Ok?”  
“Such as?”  
“Such as everything that goes down. Let’s just say I need to know what’s going on all through the day.”  
“Is this to do with Starsky?”  
“Yea. I can’t explain Mildred, but make sure all the other dispatch officers know that I want to be in on everything today.”  
“Sure Hutch. Hey if Starsky’s in trouble…” She didn’t get the chance to finish, Hutch had already gone.

Back in his car he switched his radio to monitor all communications; he would only hear the dispatch side of the conversations but that would be better than nothing he figured.

He decided to start by going to see Sweet Alice.

Alice was a hooker with a little-girl voice and a southern accent along with a big smile and long blonde hair. When Hutch had first met her he was working alone – Starsky was in the hospital under observation after some guy hit him over the head with a crowbar. Hutch had been called to a disturbance in a massage parlor. The owner was beating on one of his employees; Hutch got there in time to stop him putting the girl out of action for good.  
The victim was Alice and she’d been sweet on him ever since which was why Starsky dubbed her Sweet Alice.  
She lived in one of those apartment blocks that the Hollywood studios built in the late forties and early fifties to house their stables of young hopefuls. The building was three stories high and set around a pool. In the studios’ heyday the poolside was populated by pretty women and standard issue handsome men. Some of the residents ended up as stars; some of them ended up on the game and most of them went home.  
After the big studios lost control of Hollywood and the television companies took over, there was no need for housing for starlets under contract. The studios either sold off the real estate (most of them needed the money) or rented out the apartments at inflated rents. This block had been sold off and the residents included the usual mix of secretaries and bar staff and, of course, in this town ‘resting’ actors. Alice was not the only resident who earned her living on her back but she was the only one who did not pretend that she was doing something else.  
Her apartment was on the first floor and opened onto the deck beside the pool. It suited her to have two entrances in case two clients got their timing wrong. Hutch opted for the door in the hallway. He stopped outside and listened; there was no sign of Alice being busy so he knocked. A couple of seconds later the door opened as far as the security chain would allow; then it closed only to open completely.  
Alice was wearing a lose shirt over a pair of jeans. Her hair was piled up on her head and held in place with a slide. She was obviously in the process of getting ready for her day; she only had false eyelashes on one eye.   
‘Oh Hutch it’s always good to see you.” She looked into the hallway and smiled “You’re alone; can I hope that this is not a business call?”  
Hutch looked sheepish. He found Alice more than attractive but he also knew that a cop who dated a hooker was one very vulnerable guy; too many people could get a hold over him.   
“Business I’m afraid Alice.”  
“Oh has someone complained? I try to be as discreet as possible Hutch.”  
“No, Alice, nothing like that. I was wondering if you could help me.”  
“If I can. Let me make you some coffee, or pour you a drink maybe.”  
“No, thanks.”  
“Hey it’s serious isn’t it?” She seemed to be figuring something out in her mind. “Is it something to do with that partner of yours with the sexy butt?”  
It had never occurred to Hutch that anyone would describe Starsky like that. But then Alice was a hooker!  
“Yea…I mean...his what?  
“Oh come on Hutch, he walks like Marilyn Monroe! They say that she cut a bit off of one shoe heel, I guess he does it naturally ‘cos it would be hard to cut anything off the heel of a sneaker.” She giggled.  
The vision that flashed through Hutch’s mind made him laugh. It was true; there were times when his partner walked with a distinct “wiggle!” “Guess I never noticed because he’s not my type.” He quipped. Alice smiled at him; she had a good idea what ‘type’ Hutch went for and she was still hoping.  
“I would be interested to know if you hear anything about Starsk, Alice. He’s sort of disappeared and…”  
“If I hear anything I promise you will be the first to know.”  
Hutch kissed her lightly on the cheek and she gave an exaggerated shiver and watched ruefully as he closed the door behind him.

Hutch decided that the next port of call would be Fat Rolly’s emporium of stolen goods.  
He headed across town, continually looking in the rear and side mirrors hoping to see Starsky slide into place behind him. At one point he got a glimpse of a bright red car turning into a side street. He accelerated and hit the siren to clear his way. When he got level with the junction he pulled hard around the corner, but the red car was gone.

Hutch banged the wheel with his fist, and instantly regretted the gesture because it hurt. He started back on his route to Rolly’s.

The fat man was sitting in his office behind the storefront pawn shop and stolen goods warehouse. As usual he was sweating like a pig that saw the barbecue sign. When Hutch came in he was putting down the ‘phone.  
“I don’t know anything.”  
“Oh come on Rolly; you always say that. Beside which I haven’t asked you anything yet.”  
Rolly struggled to pull his slob’s body into something that resembled sitting. “I haven’t heard anything about….” Hutch leaned over the desk and grabbed Rolly by the collar. ‘Heard anything about what Rolly?” ”Whatever you were going to ask me.”  
Hutch let him go and laughed. “Oh that’s really good fat man. Now let’s see what we have here today.” Hutch started to tour the store, rummaging through the shelves. He opened a drawer and stopped as if he’d seen a ghost; then he pulled out a watch. He looked at the watch for a moment and then turned back to Rolly who was by now looking like he might be melting there was so much sweat pouring off him.   
“This is Starsky’s watch, Rolly. What the fuck is it doing here?”  
“Hey come on. Those watches, you can buy them anywhere.”  
“Not with a strap like this one, he had it specially fitted to his wrist so it wouldn’t slide around and annoy him. So I’m going to ask you again, Rolly, what is Starsky’s watch doing in your drawer.”  
“I promise you Hutch, I never saw it before you took it out. I was going to tell you, I think this place was broken into last night.”  
“Very good Rolly; you think I’m going to swallow that?”  
Something about Rolly’s face made Hutch stop. The fat man looked so genuinely scared that Hutch realized the guy was telling him the truth. He sat down and still holding the watch said softly “tell me about it”  
Rolly told him that when he’d arrived that morning the door was locked but the catch on one of the windows out back had been broken. “I can’t put my finger on it Hutch, but I knew somebody had been in here. I checked everything I could think of and there ain’t nothing missing.”  
“But Starsky’s watch…”  
“It wasn’t there when I left last night, and I didn’t have any reason to open the drawer; you can see for yourself there was nothing else in there.”  
Hutch knew that it was too late for the lab to take prints off the watch, he’d been turning it around in his fingers ever since he’d found it. He swore under his breath.  
“Ok Rolly. I believe you this time. But if you hear anything about Starsky let me know.”  
“Sure Hutch.” The fat man stammered. When Hutch was gone Rolly opened another drawer of the desk and took a long pull on the bottle that he took out of it.

  
Hutch sat in the car and stared at the watch. He knew how much Starsky valued it. His partner was capable of some pretty crazy things but this watch was special. He’d bought it as present to himself on his thirtieth birthday; it was a no-nonsense analog watch, he had to wind it every day. The bracelet was made of stainless steel plated with silver that had been custom molded to Starsky’s wrist. Hutch remembered Starsky quipping that the fitting was like being handcuffed. The fastening only had one setting, Hutch had tried to put it on his wrist and the fit was all wrong – he couldn’t do it up.  
 _Shit Starsky, where in the bloody hell are you? And how did your watch get into Rolly’s drawer without the fat slob knowing about it?_

****************************************************************

It was past two thirty when his stomach growled, reminding Hutch that he hadn’t eaten since six that morning. He pulled over in front of a hot-dog stand and ordered a plain hot dog with onions and mustard. The thought of Starsky piling all the extras onto a chili dog nearly stopped him from eating it. He finished the hot dog anyway and went back to the car. He opened the door and slid behind the wheel. Noticing that there was a dead fly right in the center of his vision he flipped on the windshield wipers and switched them off again before the envelope that was flapping between one wiper and the windshield could get torn. He got out of the car and took the envelope; looking all around as he did so. He’d been eating only a couple of yards from the car. His back was turned only long enough to pay the man. So who put this on the windshield and when?

He sat in the car and ripped the envelope open. He took out the contents being careful to only hold the corner between the tips of his finger and thumb. He wasn’t going to foul up another set of prints.  
A single sheet of paper; whoever wrote the message used one of those stencils that kids use to make cards and designs.

“Don’t bother looking for him. You won’t find him.”

He stared at the paper for a moment and then tossed it onto the seat beside him and headed back to the station.

He went straight down to the lab and gave the envelope and its contents to Maggie. “See what prints you can get from this will you sweetheart. Mine are on the envelope but I tried not to touch the page. It’s kind of important so if you could do it right now…”  
Maggie put on a pair of thin latex gloves and put the envelope and its message on the bench in front of her. She dusted them both with a fine powder then shook the excess off.  
“Look Hutch, this always takes longer than in the movies. Go get yourself a coffee and I’ll bring you the results as soon as I have them.”  
Reluctantly Hutch went up to the squad room. Maggie waited until he was out of the room and then picked up the ‘phone. She dialed an internal number and said “Hutch has seen the message….Yes…Ok that’s what I’ll tell him… I hope this works.”

Fifteen minutes later Maggie was standing by Hutch’s desk. “I’m sorry Hutch; the only prints were yours; whoever sent the message wore gloves.”

Hutch was visibly disappointed. He sighed and got up to leave. “OK” he said half aloud and half to himself; “back to work Hutchinson. Let’s go play ‘Hunt the Partner’.”  
Seconds after he had left Dobey put his head round the door of his office. “It’s Ok Captain,” said one of the other cops in the room, “Hutch has gone.”  
“Look out of the window and tell me when he’s driven away.”  
The cop went over to the window and looked down; after about a minute he said “All clear.” Dobey went back into his office. A couple of seconds later a man in motorcycle leathers and wearing a full-mask helmet slipped out of Dobey’s office and went down the stairs.  
Dobey came back into the squad room and looked at the papers on Hutch’s desk as if he was looking for something. He grunted and went back into his office.

  
Hutch was heading to The Pits. He needed a beer. He didn’t get that far.  
“Zebra Three; come in Zebra Three.”  
“Yea what is it?”  
“Hey Hutch don’t be so edgy.”  
“Sorry sweetheart, what do you have for me?”  
“See the man named Freddy on Ward. He says he has information for you.”

Ward was about ten minutes away. Hutch reached over and grabbed the red light and slammed it into the roof of the car as he accelerated he hit the siren and its screams seemed to get louder the faster he drove. He nearly hit a woman crossing the road (on a walk light); she yelled after him and gave him the finger.

Freddy was running his fast food stand; and doing a brisk trade in numbers when Hutch arrived. Hearing the car before they saw it; his customers melted back into the sidewalk crowd. Hutch skidded to a halt just missing the stand. Freddy looked aggrieved; “Hey Hutch you been taking lessons in driving from your buddy again?”

“What do have for me Freddy? I’m in no mood for jokes.” Hutch got real close to Freddy and he spoke, the shorter man shrank back.

“I hear you’re looking for Starsky.”  
“And?” Hutch was beginning to look distinctly unfriendly as far as Freddy was concerned.  
“And I was told to tell you that you are wasting your time.”  
“Told by who, Freddy?”  
“I don’t know. Some guy ‘phoned my house just as I was leaving. He asked me if I know a cop called Hutchinson and when I said yes, he told me to give you the message.”  
“Who was it Freddy?” Hutch had grabbed him by the collar and was pushing backwards, dangerously near the hot pot of frankfurters.  
“I don’t know. Honest!”  
“What did he sound like? Did he have an accent or anything?”  
“He sounded like a dangerous kind of guy, if you know what I mean. I think maybe he had something in front of his mouth; his voice was kind of faint – but he made sure I heard every word.”  
Hutch slipped Freddy a couple of bills. “If you ever hear from him again, don’t hesitate to let me know.”  
Freddy watched Hutch drive away. As soon as the scruffy sedan had gone around the corner; Freddy started to pack up his stand. When he had finished he went over to the pay ‘phone on the corner. “He got the message. No, I don’t think he believed me, but he got the message.” Freddy ran back to his van and drove away.

  
****************************************************************

After Dobey’s visitor had left the Captain sat down and pulled out a file. He looked carefully at the photos that were in it. Close up shots of two of LA’s biggest dope dealers in deep discussion with a candidate for next year’s election for state Governor. The candidate was a “holier than holy” TV Evangelist; Dobey was looking at him with his fingers in the sugar bowl. But it wasn’t sugar he was tasting.  
“Nice work” he said to himself. “Very nice work. I just hope he can finish it.”  
He had just locked the file in a drawer when Hutch walked in.  
“Don’t you ever knock?”  
“Sorry Captain, but I thought perhaps a missing cop might be important.”  
Hutch served himself at the water fountain the sat down opposite Dobey.  
“Do you have anything new to tell me Hutch?”  
“Well I’ve spoken to a lot of people who tell me that they don’t know anything. I’ve also been given two messages telling me to stop looking for Starsky.”  
“So what do you want to do?”  
“I don’t know Captain. He’s disappeared into thin air. I guess we could put out an APB, but everyone knows that I’m looking for him, if any cop had seen the Torino by now I’d know about it. I’m beginning to get a very bad feeling about this Captain.”

Dobey looked at the miserable expression on Hutch’s face. He tried to sound reassuring.  
“Look Ken, Starsky’s a very experienced cop and let’s be honest he’s probably a lot better than you are at getting out of trouble. He’s tough and he’s not stupid. If anything bad had happened to him we’d know.”  
“I just have this feeling, Captain. Something isn’t right and I can’t say what it is.”  
“Go home and get some rest. I’ve put every available man onto this. If I have any news I’ll call you.”  
Hutch started to protest but Dobey cut him off: “that’s not a suggestion, Hutch, it’s an order. Now go home and rest; you can’t do anything if you are exhausted.”

Hutch knew in his heart that Dobey was right. The more tired he got the less efficient he would be; and if he had to deal with real trouble he’d need to be in top form. Driving home he prayed that he would not have to deal with trouble.  
For a moment he was tempted to drive to Starsky’s place and check that he hadn’t missed anything; a yawn made him change his mind. He headed for home.

  
The ‘phone woke him at three in the morning. “Hutchinson.” The voice was cold and expressionless. It almost sounded like a pre-recorded message; the kind of irritatingly even voice that tells you that the number you dialed is out of service.  
“Hutchinson are you listening?”  
Hutch was groggy with sleep, but he managed to mumble “Yes” into the ‘phone.  
“You don’t take much notice of what people tell you Hutchinson.”  
“Who is this?” He was wasting his breath, the voice continued even as he spoke.  
“You have been told more than once to leave this alone Hutchinson. You are not going to find Starsky. He is where you can’t find him. Stop now, before it is too late.”  
The ‘phone went dead.  
For a moment Hutch thought that perhaps he had dreamed the call. Reality told him otherwise. “Oh God Starsk, what can they have done to you? Come to think of it who can they be?” He sank back into the pillow and finally went back to sleep.  
The ‘phone rang again at five. This time it was a woman’s voice but the message was much the same. “You won’t find him. If you do it will be too late to save him.”

This time Hutch wasn’t going back to sleep. He dressed and drove to the station. He went down to the special services and asked them to put a wire tap on his ‘phone.  
“I need a warrant for that.” The officer in charge was a weasel of a guy who did everything by the book. Hutch turned on him angrily. “I’m asking you to put a tap on my ‘phone where in the hell does it say you need a warrant for that?” The other guy admitted that it was not an ordinary request, but all the same…  
“Just do it! Check it out with Dobey when he arrives.”  
Hutch stormed out of the room and went up to Dobey’s office. It was too early for the Captain to be there so Hutch scribbled a message on his pad and left it where Dobey couldn’t miss it. “I had two anonymous calls last night. I’ve asked for a tap on my ‘phone. Please clear it.”  
When Dobey came in later, he threw the note in the waste basket.

Hutch headed off to The Pits.  
As he pulled up in the alley behind the bar he didn’t notice the motorbike that was pulling away.

Huggy looked a little uncomfortable when Hutch walked in; as if he’d nearly been caught red-handed in a shady deal. He managed a smile and offered Hutch coffee “It’s a little early for beer.” Hutch nodded and sat down on one of the bar stools.  
“So what progress are you making?” Huggy pushed the coffee and sugar towards him.  
“Not much. Everyone I talk to says the same thing. No-one knows where he is. I had two anonymous calls last night telling me to stop looking for him before it’s too late.  
Huggy, I ‘m beginning to think that it might already be too late. What about you? Did you find anything?”

Huggy looked embarrassed. “I’m getting the same as you, Hutch. Either they don’t know or they tell me to keep out of it. Whoever is mixed up in this is a mean dude!”

“Somebody has to know something, Huggy! All the contacts you have and you get a big zero - it doesn’t make sense.”

The ‘phone rang behind the counter and Huggy answered it. He turned his back on Hutch and leaned over the mouthpiece, keeping his voice too low for the cop to hear clearly.  
“Yes, about a ten minutes ago…no but it was close…ok…yea….I’ll try.’ He put the ‘phone down and as he walked towards Hutch he smiled broadly. “Hey I’ve just thought of something. Have you tried his Uncle Al?”  
“Huggy, you are a genius.” Hutch was up and out before Huggy could say anything.

  
Al was in his office above the parts store that he owned. He looked up at Hutch with a welcoming smile. “Well hello Hutch. What brings you here? That car of yours falling apart again?”  
“No, my car’s going fine. I was wondering if you’d seen anything of Dave in the last couple of days.”

Al’s smile melted like ice cream on a hot day. “No, not since he came over for dinner during the holidays. You know how it is; if he doesn’t spend one night of it with us his mother nags him for a month afterwards.” Al tried to sound light about it.

“He seems to have disappeared Al; and every one I ask tells me tiddly squat. I’ve even had threatening messages telling me not to look for him.”  
“And you thought I might know the right people to ask? Hutch the boy is my nephew! I might have some friends that –shall we say would prefer that I didn’t have a cop in the family – but I’d never let any of them harm the kid. My sister-in-law would never forgive me for a start. You haven’t met Lily, have you? Sweet as pie, unless she thinks someone is going to harm her baby!”

“If you hear anything Al…….”  
“Don’t worry Hutch you’ll be the first to know, even if I have to come to the station in person.”  
Hutch left Al’s office. Once again he missed the motorbike.

  
****************************************************************

The TV Evangelist was famous for several things: his war on drugs; his war on sex; his war on abortion; his war on homosexuality; his war on the Democrats and his amazing ability to get people to send him money. Every day on his show he promised that those who sent him money would be happy in the next world. None of his contributors had any idea just how much he put their money to use enjoying himself in the present world. Thanks to his “fundraising” he already had his pearly gates – big gold leafed iron ones opened by remote control at the entrance to his four acre Brentwood estate.  
He was running for governor on a ticket of intolerance and bigotry. Anti-gay; anti-woman; anti-everything he could find to hate. He toned down the anti-Semitism and the racism, but only enough to keep him from being arrested.   
His habit was costing him up to fifteen hundred bucks a day. His suppliers were only too happy to keep him in powder; they were assured that once he was governor they’d have no fears.

The LA drug squad had the Evangelist under surveillance for about six months before someone close to his suppliers was tipped off. Although no-one could pin anything on him, the police were sure that he had something to do with the disappearance of one officer and the death of another.

The drug squad never has as many men as the other police departments. They are frequently expert at going under cover, but sometimes they need outside help.  
Choosing a cop to go undercover in this one was not easy. He was going to have to pose as a dealer and a user. Plenty of cops had done that before and ended up out of a job; hooked for life some of them landed up in jail or worse.

When the drug squad captain went through the files of all the cops in the department he found his man. The cop had an excellent record; he’d grown up on the streets and knew how to survive; and he’d been treated intensively with morphine with no long-term effects; he didn’t smoke much  and he drank sparingly all of which made him a “non-addictive personality” in the narcotics department’s special form of psychobabble. His captain agreed to lend him to the drug squad. The conditions would be difficult. Most of his fellow officers knew what was happening; some of them through necessity had to be kept in the dark. The word on the street had to be contradictory; some people kept a benign watch over him. Another cop would have to create a diversion if necessary; and not know he was doing it.

  
The undercover cop was getting on fine. He’d contacted one of the dealers and he was buying for himself at a rate of $200 to $300 a day. He was pushing about $15000 a day. When he made a big sale he even demonstrated the goods by taking a line or two. Now he was closing in on the prey. Word had gotten around that the Evangelist wanted to meet him. He checked in with his Captain and upped his budget to $20000 a day and went out on a shopping trip. He bought what he needed and set up a meet with the Evangelist.

Now he was on his way.

  
The Brentwood mansion was hardly visible behind the fence that surrounded the four acre estate. It was a sprawling white stucco house with red roof tiles on its pseudo mansard roof; the real estate agent had described it as a French Mediterranean chateau. The woman had obviously never been to France! That didn’t matter to the Evangelist. He’d grown up in a tar-paper shack so far from the tracks you couldn’t even hear the goods train’s whistle as it passed through town. His family was white trash in a bigoted southern town – they’d have been better treated if they were black. He grew up hating everything he could not have. At the age of nineteen he had a vision; the lord told him to get out there and preach hellfire (and forgiveness for those who could pay the price). He discovered that he had a gift for haranguing a crowd. He could speak without notes for hours and if he had learned one thing in school it was how to recite the Bible. Television came to its maturity just as his career as a big top preacher was coming to its climax; a clever producer who did not care two cents about what the guy was saying saw the audience potential. He offered the Evangelist his own show. Now the Evangelist owned his own station. Every day millions tuned in to hear him rant and rage against the abortionists and gays and liberals who were destroying the world.  
“Send me your contributions in this great fight against evil!” he finished every broadcast with the same request. One hundred and twenty people were needed to process the money that poured in. He promised heaven to the poor – and lived in his own heaven at their expense.  
He first took a little sniff to help keep up the energy needed for his fight against the evils that he insisted were afoot in the world. The friend who gave him the dose assured him that it was safe – available on prescription even. By the end of a month he couldn’t start the day without it. Six months later he knew what he was doing but he couldn’t let go. He was up to $1500 a day. He needed a new supplier – the cops had already arrested one of his regulars. He heard about the new kid on the block and put out his feelers to meet him.   
The new dealer was due at the mansion at five that afternoon.

In the meantime a new problem had arisen. Word was out that a detective was onto one of his associates. Dealers and pushers were reporting that a blond cop in a beat up car was asking too many questions and measures were being taken to stop him.

****************************************************************

  
The motorbike was a beauty. A black monster with a Harley engine that would make a grown man weep. The rider was dressed from head to foot in black leather and he had one of the new style full head helmets; black of course.  
Hutch couldn’t help admire it as he watched the bike disappear up Wilshire ahead of him. He had other things on his mind. One of the snitches had finally hit pay dirt and Hutch was on his way to see him.  
Mickey only hung out in the sleaziest bars. This time he’d excelled himself; as Hutch went in a guy was pissing up the wall by the door. Mickey was waiting in a back booth.  
Hutch went over to him. “This had better be worth it Mickey. If your information’s good there’s a hundred in it for you.” He looked at the tremor in Mickey’s hands took pity on him and signaled to the bar tender to bring a couple of beers. It took Mickey a few gulps to straighten himself out enough to tell Hutch what he knew.  
“Starsky…been seen…”  
“Come on Mickey.” Hutch went to take the glass away.  
“No, wait. I have a name. Little Billy Sinclair.”  
“Sinclair!” One of the biggest and meanest dealers in the city. “What does Sinclair want with Starsky?”   
“He wants him dead; he says he’s getting too close.”  
Hutch knew better than to let Mickey see that he had no idea what he was talking about. He put two bills on the table and stood up. “Enjoy your beer Mickey; here you can have mine too.”

In the car Hutch reached for the radio and asked to be put through to Dobey.  
“Captain I have a lead.”  
“You’d better come in and tell me about it.”

Sitting in Dobey’s office Hutch told him about his meeting with Mickey. The Captain looked worried. “We’ll have to go carefully; Sinclair is dangerous and if he already has Starsky…” He didn’t need to finish. The last cop that had gotten involved with Sinclair was found in pieces in a trunk under the newest ride at Disneyland.  
Dobey ran his fingers through his hair. “I know you want to go right in Hutch, but we have to take this step by step. I’ll find out if the drug squad has any idea about what Sinclair is dealing right now. You go down to records and pull all the files you can find about his known accomplices.”

Hutch ran out of the office. Dobey picked up the ‘phone. “Hutch is on his way down to you; make sure he has plenty to read.” He dialed again. “This is Dobey. Hutch has heard about Sinclair. The diversion should work but I’m relying on your department to run it. I’ll tell Hutch to report to you when he’s plowed through all the files Records are going to give him. It should take him a couple of hours.”

Dobey got up and served himself at the water cooler. He went back to his desk and picked up the ‘phone again. “Huggy? This is Dobey. Tell him I need to see him….no not here…OK I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” The Captain picked up his jacket and put his hat on and was leaving his office just as Hutch came along the hall struggling not to lose the pile of files in his arms. “I have to go to a meeting, Hutchinson; you can read that stuff in my office. I’ll be back in about an hour and we’ll plan the next move.” Hutch nodded and pushed the office door open with his hip. He got to the desk just as the files started slipping out of his arms.

It took Hutch more than two hours to get through all the information in the files. He kept having to go back to look at one file in order to understand what he read in another one. The more he read, the more he was getting worried. If half of the allegations against Sinclair were true Starsky was in big trouble. Sinclair’s record read like the plot of a sub-B movie plot. He eliminated anyone who he even thought might be getting in his way; and he had a less than tender attitude to cops. One cop who had fallen foul of Sinclair was found two years later; only the dental records could prove that the remains were the missing cop. The remains had been found in ten different locations over a period of ten weeks.

Dobey returned.

“So how are you getting on?” Dobey’s face was a study in worry and Hutch feared the worse.  
“Did you get any information at your meeting?”  
“My meeting? Oh…no…not really.” Dobey’s voice almost betrayed him. “All I know is that the last time anyone saw Dave he was getting onto a car with one Terry Stone.”  
“Terry Stone?” Hutch started riffling through the files “Stone. Isn’t he that lawyer who works for Sinclair?”  
The Captain nodded and sighed. “Yes. Maybe you’d better go and see him.”

Hutch was gone before the Captain could say another word.

Dobey reached for the ‘phone but changed his mind and then he too left the office.  
Hutch had driven away when Dobey crossed to the ‘phone booth opposite the station.   
Dobey put in his dime and dialed. “Stone? Hutch is on his way. You know what to do. Yes…He’s on his way over there now; he’ll need about an hour, so make sure that Hutch has plenty to interest him. How? That’s your problem. Just keep Hutch out of circulation until about four thirty. OK. That’s already been arranged. No don’t worry; Sinclair will be out of it too.”

As Hutch was driving out to Malibu where Stone lived high above the beach he thought he saw the Torino turning off San Vicente. He turned into the same street and into the network of neat residential streets although he knew that it was taking him away from his route. Up ahead a red Torino was parking into the front drive of a house. From where he was, Hutch couldn’t see if the car was Starsky’s; the sun was in his eyes and he couldn’t see the license plate; he couldn’t see the full paint job either. As he pulled up he saw that the car was plain red – no stripe - and it was the four-door version. As he drove past he watched the young mother get her kids and the shopping out of the car. Disappointed he took a couple of left turns and went back on his way to Malibu.

Stone’s house was at the end of a short track. It wasn’t particularly big or showy; but the view was fantastic. Hutch parked and checked for guards. No-one. No sign of Stone either; and no sign of Starsky.   
“I’m down here.” The voice came from below the cliff. Hutch went over to the edge and saw a ladder leading down to the beach. Stone was sitting in a low chair close to the ocean’s edge. He was fishing. Without looking up to see who his visitor might be he called. “Come on down; I’ve got beer in the cooler.”  
Hutch went down the ladder constantly looking around him in case of a trap. The only danger was of falling down the ladder because he wasn’t looking where he was going. He just steadied himself in time. He walked over to Stone.   
Sensing that his visitor was behind him; Stone turned round smiling.  
“Yes?”  
“My name is Hutchinson; I’m a cop.”  
“So?”  
“So I’m looking for my partner.”  
“Have you lost him? How careless of you!”  
Hutch was not in the mood for jokes. “Listen Stone; I’ve been told that my partner was seen getting into a car with you.”  
“Really? Tell me what your partner looks like, or his name maybe; I might know what you’re talking about.”  
Hutch spoke through clenched teeth. “His name is Starsky, Dave Starsky. He’s five eleven; he has dark curly hair and he drives...”  
“Oh yes. Couldn’t miss a car like that, could you? So he was a cop was he?”  
“Was…you’d better start explaining Stone. Starting with what you mean by ‘was’.”  
“Sit down. Have a beer. Come on, what harm can it do and anyway I’m not sure that I can answer your questions with the answers you want to hear.”  
Stone held a bottle out to Hutch. Hutch accepted it and sat down on the sand beside Stone.  
Stone started to tell a long and involved story about how he’d been driving through North Hollywood and lost his way. He’d seen this guy fixing something under the hood of his car and stopped to ask him the way.  
“What kind of a car?”  
“Not one I’d forget in a hurry. Bright red Ford of some kind; it had this flashy white paint job on it.”  
“It’s a Torino. It has a stripe along the sides”  
“Yea; something like that. Anyway this guy was really helpful and said that if I could give him ride to a service station he would show me the way to where I was going. So I took him to the service station and then dropped him back at his car. He told me to follow him and he’d show me the road I was looking for. That’s all I can tell you.”  
Hutch looked up at Stone and fixed him with a stare.  
“Where was he heading?”  
“How should I know?” Stone shrugged his shoulders.  
“Which way did he turn when he left you? Did he say anything else?”   
He was going the same way I was. I’d taken a wrong turn and was going up into the canyons when I should have been headed back towards the city. I guess he was going up into the canyons. I think he had some kind of photographic equipment in the car. I saw a map on the seat of his car; it was folded around that part of Mulholland that goes to a dust track”  
“When was this?” Hutch suddenly remembered that Dobey had given no indication of when Starsky had been seen getting into Stone’s car.  
“About two maybe three hours ago. If he’s gone into the canyons around there it could take a long time to find him; even with a car as distinctive as that one. He seemed a quiet kind of guy; he just has a weird taste in cars.”  
“You can say that again.” Hutch laughed. He was always trying to convince Starsky that the Torino was a crazy car for an undercover cop. Starsky just told him that no-one would believe they were cops and that was why it worked.  
“Finish your beer before you go hunting, Officer Hutchinson.”  
Hutch put the bottle down, half full. “Thanks, but I think I’ll go hunting before it gets too dark.”

He went back up the ladder and back to his car. The nearest canyon road was Topanga, but it was a little too far to the north of where he wanted to go; it was also very twisty and Hutch wanted to get up to that end of Mulholland fast. He headed back towards LA and decided to take Laurel.

Mulholland Avenue was long and went through many different styles. At one end were the kind of houses that attracted the stars and the rich studio executives. At the other end it became a track; but the tarmac was advancing with each week and soon the whole road would be yet another part of the LA urban sprawl.   
Hutch drove carefully not wanting to cause too much of a dust cloud. He constantly scanned the scrubby land either side of the track. If the Torino was up here he’d see it from way off. After he’d driven for nearly an hour it started to get dark and Hutch accepted defeat. Either Stone had been lying or Starsky had gone someplace else. He found a place to turn round and started back down to the city. He stopped to admire the display in front of him. The sun had almost set; a thin red crescent was sinking down through the horizon making the ocean look like it was bleeding. Panned out before him, the lights of LA twinkled like a carpet made of fairy lights. Hutch was mesmerized. He’d never seen the city like that and he promised himself that if ever he could afford it he’d build a house up here, even if it was a one-room shack; the view would be worth it.  
He sighed and started down the hill and back to reality.

As he was turning into North Hollywood and heading for the precinct he saw the motorbike again. He shrugged and drove on.  _Some guys have all the luck_. He thought.

***************************************************************

Hutch was almost at the station when Dobey came on the radio. “Hutch. You don’t need to come back tonight. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
For once Hutch didn’t bother to argue.

In his office Dobey was waiting for his visitor and he didn’t want Hutch to see him.  
He was relieved that Hutch didn’t argue with him. Stone must have really sent him on a wild goose chase; the blond cop sounded exhausted – physically and emotionally. Dobey felt sorry for him but it had to be done this way.

Someone knocked on the hallway door and Dobey went over to the other door and locked it before letting his visitor in.   
“Are you sure no-one saw you come in?”  
The biker took off his helmet. “With this thing on my head? Even my mother wouldn’t recognize me.” Starsky laughed and shook his hair out. “Gets a little hot in there.”

Starsky took a goblet of water and flicked some water on his face with his fingers. He sat down and drank the rest of the water in one.   
“How’s Hutch doing?” Starsky’s concern for his friend was in his voice.  
“He’s worried about you. Stone sent him off on a hunting trip in the canyons this afternoon. I’ve just sent him home.”  
“I feel bad about this. He’s a good friend and it seems kind of cruel to let him think that something bad has happened to me. I know if it was the other way around I’d be murderous when I found out the truth.”

“We’ll bring him down as gently as we can. Now what about your side of the case?”

“I have an appointment with the Evangelist tonight at ten thirty he’d fixed it for five but I needed a little more time to get my supplies. Plus, I prefer to go there when it’s dark. The back-up will be outside waiting for my signal. I’ll make the sale and then start a fight. Somehow I have to smash a window.” Starsky toyed with the helmet on his lap and grinned. “Shouldn’t be too difficult. You know what, maybe it would make it easier for Hutch to accept this deal if he was part of the back up.”

“No!” The Captain was more than emphatic. “This is a drug squad case. Anyway, Hutch sounded really tired; he wouldn’t appreciate being called out for a stake out.”  
Starsky knew Hutch well enough to know that when he was really tired he was not much use to anyone. “We wouldn’t want his snoring to tip them off!” The two of them laughed.  
Starsky looked at his watch. “Time to go. See you later Captain.”  
He put the helmet on and slipped out of the room.

  
Ten thirty sharp Starsky arrived in front of the flashy gold-leafed gates. He checked over his shoulder and waved to the two cars parked a few yards further back. He patted his small backpack as if to signal “It’s safe in here.”  
Without getting off the bike he reached over and rang the bell. A guard arrived almost immediately and opened the gate. “You’re expected.”

Starsky drove the Harley up the drive and came to halt in a spray of gravel. As he was kicking the stand into place the front door opened. Starsky walked in.

The Evangelist was waiting for him in the living room. He was sitting in a rococo chair with a white and gilt wooden frame. He must have thought he looked like an angel. Starsky thought he looked like something, but an angel was not what he had in mind.

Starsky took off the helmet and set it on the low table in front of him. He started to take off the back pack and as he did his host got up and came to the table.  
“Before we go any further I want to see the money.” Starsky’s voice was even and cold.  
“It’s right here.” The Evangelist reached into an inside pocket and took out at fat wad of notes. Starsky could see that the bills were all hundreds.  
“The price has gone up. $20000.”  
“It’s all here Mr. er….I still don’t know your name.”  
“Do you need to? I mean as long as I bring you what you want; my name doesn’t matter. What matters is that you have the money and that I have the best quality coke that your money can buy.” Starsky’s expression stopped the Evangelist from protesting.

Carefully Starsky opened the back pack and tipped the contents onto the table. The table was about eighteen inches off the ground. Its top was made of highly polished black marble. Starsky crouched down balancing perfectly on the balls of his feet. He opened one of the sachets and took a pen knife from his jacket pocket. With an expert gesture he made two straight lines. He held out his hand for the wad of bills. The Evangelist gave it to him and he removed the top bill. He rolled the bill and handed it to the Evangelist who was now kneeling at the table like a depraved altar boy. The Evangelist stuck the bill into his nostril and snorted the two lines greedily.  
“Good?” Starsky asked innocently.  
“Excellent.” The Evangelist reached for a second sachet but Starsky grabbed his wrist.  
“Not yet; not until I’ve checked that the money is all here. He started flipping the notes. He stopped and glowered at the Evangelist. “You’re short.”  
“No, it’s all there.” The Evangelist was stammering. “I assure you, there’s $20000 there.”  
“You’re short.” Starsky repeated with a tone of menace in his voice. “I don’t like being crossed.” He reached across the table and grabbed the Evangelist by the lapels. His client yelled and a heavily-built man came into the room and headed for Starsky.  
“Oh oh. Time for me to leave!” Starsky grabbed the helmet and flung it at the window just as the body guard lunged round the table and threw a punch at Starsky’s jaw. Starsky ducked and came up to throw a left hook at the guys midriff; it didn’t have much effect on the enemy but it made Starsky shake his hand in pain, he’d hit a heavy gilt belt buckle. He put his head down and charged like a footballer breaking through the defense line. This time he made contact where it hurt the other guy. His opponent went down grasping his crotch, tears streaming down his face. “Take small breaths,“ Starsky told him, “you’ll feel better in about a half hour.”  
Out of the corner of his eye, Starsky saw the Evangelist trying to sneak out of the door. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the Beretta. “I can stop you before you go another inch.” The Evangelist heard the safety click and froze.  
At that moment the back-up arrived. Starsky waited while they cuffed the Evangelist and helped the still weeping body guard up to his feet. “Jeez Starsky!” one of them said “What did you do to him?”  
“I aimed a little lower than an umpire would tolerate!” They all laughed.  
“I guess I’ve done all you needed from me. I’m going home. See you guys at the station tomorrow.”  
“Yea. Thanks Starsky.”  
“You’re welcome.”

****************************************************************

Hutch woke up the next morning and went through his usual routine. He ran a mile; came home and drank his ‘glop’; took a shower; dressed and left for work.

Starsky had been missing three days now. Surely Dobey would agree to put out an APB. Hutch was rehearsing his request as he drove up to the station entrance.

The black Harley was parked right in front of the entrance.   
Hutch found a space further along the street and walked back to the station. He stopped to admire the bike. It really was a beauty. Something about it told him that it was a custom job and he wondered how much that would cost. The paintwork was perfect and looked like expensive Japanese lacquer. The struts and the wheel spokes gleamed as if the chrome was brand new. He shook his head and re-worked the ‘if I ever have any money’ dream. Instead of a one-room shack on Mulholland perhaps a bike like this would be more fun.  
He shook his head and started up to the office.

When he arrived in the squad room he noticed that everyone seemed suddenly busy with typing reports and reading files. He walked over to his desk and automatically picked up the Piggy Bank. It rattled! Someone had put a coin in there. Someone had solved a case. Only Starsky and he knew about this idea…  
The ‘phone rang. “Hutchinson.”  
“Now you’ve arrived why don’t you come into my office. I have some news for you.”  
Hutch went into Dobey’s office.   
“I have news about Starsky.” He went over to the other door and opened it. “You can come in now.”  
The motorcyclist was still wearing his helmet. Dobey gestured to him to take a seat. Hutch found it annoying if not rude that this guy didn’t take the helmet off.   
“I’m listening”  
Dobey nodded to the biker.  
Pulling off the helmet Starsky turned to smile at Hutch. He leaned over and touched his arm. “Forgive us. We had to do it this way.”  
Hutch was close to tears. He didn’t know whether he was angry of relieved. He turned to Starsky and then to Dobey and his mouth worked but no sound came out.  
“How could you! I thought you were dead!”  
Starsky looked at Dobey and then stood up and put his hand on Hutch’s shoulder. Hutch shrugged it off but Starsky put it straight back in a gesture that said “sorry” and “forgive us “and “listen”.

Dobey leaded forward and rested his elbows on the desk.  
“Starsky didn’t like doing it this way neither did I. Dave was working so far under cover that it was best that you didn’t know what was happening.”  
Starsky took over. “We made sure that you were kept away from me. Huggy, Alice, all of them, even Stone. They all helped keep you away from finding out where I was. I was working with the drug squad. You know that Evangelist who wants to be Governor? Well he’s going to live in a state-owned premises but it won’t be in Sacramento. I busted him last night for feeding a coke habit that his “fans” will be very disappointed to learn about. “  
Hutch was still trying to accept that Starsky had been OK all along and that so many people that he’d trusted had lied to him. Starsky saw his pain and patted his shoulder reassuringly. “You have a donation to the Piggy to make too. Sinclair is about to be busted; and you’re going to do it.”  
“But…”  
“Stone made a deal. He led you up the garden path in return for immunity if he handed us Sinclair. He agreed that you should be the one to bring him in. If you go over to Stone’s place now, you’ll find Sinclair counting out the money from a big coke sale. The notes are easily traced. The Evangelist paid $20000 last night; be sure to count it.”  
Hutch was frozen in the chair. Starsky tapped him on the cheek and grinned. “You wanna go over there on my bike; I’ve got a spare helmet.”  
Hutch stood up like a kid who’d been promised the biggest candy apple at the fair.  
“Your bike?”  
“Yea, I picked it up about a year ago. It took me months to put it back into shape – nobody had ridden it for years, it was all rusted and….Anyway, when I’d fixed it I took it to Merle and he made it look as good as it sounds.”

Hutch followed Starsky down to the waiting bike. His partner opened one of the saddle bags and gave him the spare helmet. “Hop on! If you’re good I’ll let you drive it back.”

Starsky kicked the motor into life and the two cops roared off in the direction of Malibu followed at a discreet distance by a black and white.

After they’d delivered Sinclair to the uniformed cops, Starsky handed Hutch the key to the Harley. “Huggy wants to apologize too. Let’s go get a beer.”

In The Pits Huggy and Alice were waiting. Hutch didn’t get a chance to be angry; Alice was almost crying and Huggy looked too sheepish for anyone to be mad at him for long.

“I thought I saw your car. I even followed a red car twice.”  
“You should have looked in the garage.”  
“I thought you didn’t have a garage.”  
“Where do you think I keep the Harley?”

Starsky raised his glass and grinned. Hutch tipped the contents of his glass over Starsky’s head.

They both laughed.

“I guess we’re even.” Said Starsky. “But what about those two?” he nodded towards Alice and Huggy.  
Hutch picked up Starsky’s beer and walked towards the bar.

 


End file.
